


Fire and Rain

by iam93percentstardust



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Minor Character Death, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-11-07 17:47:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11064021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iam93percentstardust/pseuds/iam93percentstardust
Summary: Sam and Dean investigate the murder of a college football star. They originally think it’s a ghost but discover that it’s not something nearly as innocent as a ghost.





	Fire and Rain

The vintage Chevrolet Impala pulled into the parking garage. Next to the shiny trucks and sports cars, the Impala looked particularly shabby. It certainly wouldn’t be winning any awards, covered in dust and mud as it was. The boys in the car, however, would call it “well-used.”

“Wow, parking here is crap,” Dean Winchester muttered.

“Yeah,” his brother, Sam, agreed. “For a growing college, you’d think they’d have better parking.”

They stopped at the Office of Transportation to get directions and then proceeded on their way across campus. As they walked, Dean noticed the over-abundance of trees and bushes. It didn’t matter how much construction was going on; there was vegetation popping up everywhere. “Texas isn’t normally this green, is it?”

Sam shook his head. “No but Texas, South Texas in particular, has had an unusual amount of rainfall these last few years,” he said, checking reports on his phone. “Couple areas flood, parts of campus closed for remodeling, three deaths after a flashflood… Nothing too unusual though.” He looked around for directions and, upon seeing none, stopped one of the students. “Can you tell us where to find campus police?”

She shrugged. “Across the quad, through Flowers Hall. It’s directly opposite. Do you mind? I’m late.”

Sam hurriedly let go of her arm. “Sorry. Thanks.” The girl rushed off. The brothers continued on their way, finding the police offices in a few minutes.

“Welcome to the Texas State University Police Department. What can we do for you?” the receptionist asked, typing away at her computer. She looked up to see the dark suits and shiny badges. “Ah.”

* * *

 

“Agents Turner and Singer to see you, sir,” the receptionist said quietly. The chief glanced up, putting out his cigarette. He took one look at the brothers and waved the receptionist back out into the hallway. The door closed with a soft snick behind her. Dean and Sam flashed their badges at the officer.

Officer Michaels sighed heavily and sat back in his chair. “Federal agents, huh? What can I do for y’all?”

“Our department in the bureau specializes in unusual crimes,” Sam explained. “The recent incident happened to show up on our desks.”

Michaels chuckled softly. “It certainly is unusual,” he conceded, flipping through the open file on his desk. “Truth be told, I was kinda hoping the FBI or something would take over this case. I don’t even know what we’re lookin’ at here.” He found the page he was looking for and handed it to Dean. Dean grunted and passed the page over to Sam.

“What happened?” Dean asked.

“Not sure. Troy Matthews, 21. Football player. Studying Consumer Affairs. His fiancée went inside to talk to a professor, leaving him waiting for her. Came back out to find a blackened skull and a pile of ashes.”

Same looked up from the paper. “Any witnesses?”

Michaels shook his head. “No. It was late. They were the only two in the quad apparently.”

“Video cameras catch anything?” Sam continued.

Again, Michaels shook his head and turned his computer to face the boys. A grainy video showed a hooded figure, back to the camera, striding towards Matthews. Just before the figure reached Matthews, it paused, spun, and lobbed something at the camera, too quick to see. The footage shook as the thing struck the camera. Then, the screen went black.

“The screen melted,” he explained. “We found it the next morning.” Abruptly, he stood. “Come on. We’ve been running our own investigation, such as it is, and I figured I should show you. We’ve got two students analyzing the body.”

Dean and Sam exchanged a confused glance. “Students?” Sam asked. “Why?”

“You’ll see.”

* * *

 

The brothers studied the two students working in the lab. It was difficult to tell facial features due to the hazmat suits—because of the unknown chemicals, Michaels explained—but they could tell that both students were fairly young. On the small side, both were practically swimming in their suits. However, they worked with an ease and grace that belied their apparent youth. It was evident that they’d worked together before. They worked around each other with a fluidity that only came with practice. Dean smiled to himself, recognizing the fluidity that he and Sam had.

“So what’s so great about those two?” he asked.

“Well, Lane Whittaker is one of our graduate students. She had her BS of Chemistry within two years and a dual minor in physics and communication in three. She’s almost finished with her master’s degree. She’s an expert in pyrotechnics and was close friends with Matthews. Whittaker is the one working with the ash off to the right.”

Sam’s eyes traveled from Lane Whittaker to the other student. This one worked with the skull. A steady hand kept the skull from crumbling into the ash that Whittaker worked with. Sam was impressed with the dexterity the student showed, even through the hazmat suit.

“And the other one?” he asked.

Michaels had to pause to look the student up in the file. “Whittaker asked to work with him specifically. Ravi Malik. Working on a double major in anthropology and criminal justice. Minor in forensic psychology. He’s in his second year here, made more impressive by the fact that he’s only sixteen.”

Whittaker glanced up from her work and saw the three men standing in the observation room. Michaels motioned for her to join them. She nodded, signaled for another minute, and turned back to her work. She added a few drops of something to the compound she was working with, stirred it twice, then settled it over a burner. A few minutes later, Whittaker was in the anteroom stripping off the hazmat suit.

“Michaels,” she greeted them. “Who are they?”

Before Michaels could answer, Dean asked, “What are you doing? That doesn’t look like ash to me.”

“Very astute, Mr.…?” she said. Dean caught just a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“Agent. Agent Singer and this is Agent Turner.”

She glanced between the two of them. “FBI?”

“Yes,” Dean said, challenging her to question it.

“Really,” she drawled. A small smile danced at the corner of her lips and something flashed in her eyes. Abruptly, she stuck out her hand. “Lane Whittaker. You can call me Lane if you like. As Michaels probably mentioned, I’m a grad student here. I’m writing my thesis on the rediscovered usages of alchemical formulas. Actually, my presentation is in a few weeks. You should stick around to see it. As for what I’m doing, while I can isolate different chemicals with the ash while it’s in solid form, it’s not preferable. Ash tends to like to spread out and you miss things. So, instead, I’m dissolving the ash and isolating compounds that way.”

“Why are you isolating the chemicals?” Sam asked. “What does that do?”

Michaels turned and started walking for the exit. “I’m going to leave before this gets any more technical.”

Lane glared after him. “You’d do well to listen to the technical talk,” she muttered. “I—can I help you?”

Dean jumped, startled from his musings. He hadn’t realized that he’d been staring at Lane. Their earlier observation was correct. She didn’t look old enough to be a college student. Barely over five feet tall, Dean would have placed her age at 14 if he’d seen her in the street. Her bright blue eyes though held a wisdom far beyond her age and Dean wondered what had happened to give her that look. Her white-blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, now thrown over her shoulder, and Dean could see streaks of blue running through it. Like most college students, Lane dressed casually in yoga pants and a Winnie-the-Pooh t-shirt. There was a tattoo of what looked like constellations on each wrist and the beginnings of a more intricate tattoo on her shoulder.

Dean realized he was still staring. “Sorry,” he muttered and moved to the window to watch Ravi work.

“So, the isolation?” Sam prompted.

Lane took a second to turn to him from Dean. “Right. I’m looking for compounds that shouldn’t be there, anything that can be used to identify the killer. But it’s weird.”

The boys stiffened. Dean turned back slowly and Sam met his eyes. A look of understanding passed between them. “Weird, how?” Sam asked gently. He was expecting that she would dance around the question, so he continued, “Like the smell of sulfur, maybe. Any cold spots or what looks like black goo?”

“What?” Lane asked, her eyebrows furrowing. “No. Weird, like there’s a compound I can’t figure out. I know it’s there but none of the tests are working on it.”

The boys relaxed, thinking that, while the case was weird, it might not be their type of case after all. Then Lane continued, “There’s more. Troy’s only been dead for a few days.” She tripped over the words and Sam, remembering that Michaels has said she and Troy had been friends, reached out to steady her. “But, according to the rate of deterioration on the ash, Troy’s been dead for weeks.”

Lane excused herself then, as she needed to attend to her solution. Dean took Sam aside.

“What do you think?” he asked, watching Lane from out of the corner of his eye.

Sam looked just as bemused. “I’m not sure,” he said. “It seems like it could be our sort of case but I don’t know what we’d be looking for.”

Dean could sort of remember seeing something like this before. He couldn’t quite recall where though. Unable to remember where he’d seen it, he set the puzzle aside for the moment and decided to say nothing to Sam. No sense in worrying him over something they could do nothing about. Not when they had other leads to follow.

“So what next?” Sam asked as they left the building.

“You remember the, uh, the deaths that you were talking about? The ones from the flood?”

“You thinking a vengeful spirit, maybe?”

“Maybe. See if there’s a connection between Matthews and any of the flood victims. I’m going to talk to the fiancée.”

* * *

 

Lilly Horner was traumatized.

It had only been three days since the love of her life had disintegrated into a pile of ashes. Since then, she’d had to relive that awful night through two TV interviews, an article for the school paper, six or seven investigations by the police, and a brief explanation for Troy’s friend, Lane Whittaker. She’d thought it couldn’t get any worse but here was an FBI agent telling her that Troy had been murdered and asking if she had any additional information.

So, yes, Lilly Horner was traumatized.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “Who did you say you were?”

“Agent Robert Singer,” Dean explained again, a tad impatient. “Now, look, it’s very important that you remember anything unusual. Sulfur, cold spots, anything like that.”

Lilly had to think hard. “Well, it was an unusually cold night for late March. We could even see our breaths.”

Dean thought that the ghost theory was seeming a bit more plausible. “Can you-?”

“There was a bird,” Lilly interrupted.

“A bird?” Dean stated.

“Yeah. It looked like a cardinal almost but I’ve never seen a cardinal here before. That can’t be normal.”

Dean stared at her for a moment. He knew she was trying to be helpful but that was the most unhelpful thing they’d heard in a while. He couldn’t imagine what a cardinal had to do with this.

“Okay, uh, let’s go back to Troy,” he told her, trying hard not to grimace at her “clue.” “Did Troy have any enemies, anyone who might have a grudge against him?”

Lilly shook her head. “No.” Then, she reconsidered. “Well, one of his friends, Lane Whittaker, she seemed mad at Troy but I knew Lane and Troy. They could never stay mad at each other for long. Everyone loves—loved—Troy. He was homecoming king, you know?”

Of course he was. Dean stifled a sigh—same story as every time—and decided to push deeper. “What about the flood victims from last year? Did Troy know any of them?”

Lilly gasped. She started digging in her purse, saying, “How did you know?”

“Sorry?” Dean asked, confused.

She handed a picture out to him. It looked like a clipping from a newspaper. Troy sat at a table with three other people, open books and studying hard. One of them seemed to be talking while Troy and the other two looked to be listening.

“This was Troy’s study group,” Lilly explained. She took the picture back and smiled sadly at it. “That’s Ethan Garcia and Jesse Evans. They were on the football team with Troy. And that one was Allic Weiss, their tutor. This picture was taken for the school paper, you know, to promote study habits.”

“And the flood?” Dean prompted.

“Troy had left early to come pick me up from work. I don’t think he ever quite forgave himself for that. He thought he should have been there with them.”

* * *

 

Dean met up with Sam at the library. “This campus, Sam, it’s gonna kill me,” Dean muttered as they made their way up another flight of stairs. It was as though the entire campus was made out of nothing but stairs.

“So get this,” Sam commented, handing Dean a newspaper. Dean recognized the front picture. “Troy Matthews was in the same study group as the flood victims.”

“I heard. His fiancée told me that he was supposed to be with them the night they died.”

Sam looked down at Dean. “Definitely a ghost, then.”

“Looks that way.”

“But, then, why the fire? You’d think Matthews would have drowned like the other victims.”

The men went silent, both contemplating the question. Then Dean stopped and turned to Sam.

“They died cold and wet, right?”

“Yeah,” Sam said slowly, not sure where this was going.

“So they would have wanted light, warmth, anything like that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“What if that want was so great it stayed with them?”

Sam considered that for a moment. “You’re thinking that they incinerated Troy because it was their dying wish?” Dean nodded. “It’s unusual but not unheard of.” He handed Dean another newspaper. “They’re buried close by.”

* * *

 

Dean tossed Sam a salt gun from the trunk. As for himself, he grabbed the shovel and salt. The matches were already in his pocket.

In a stroke of fortune, the three graves were next to each other. It was a quiet night and the boys were silent as Dean dug. Sam stood watching for anything to move. But there were no disturbances. In what felt like no time at all, the boys were watching as the last of the bodies burned.

They packed up and left for the motel.

* * *

 

Just before classes started, a knock on Professor Hunt’s door startled her awake. Asleep at her desk again, she thought moodily. Well, better than being in that empty house again.

“Come in,” she called as the knock sounded again.

A hooded figure entered the room. “Professor Hunt?”

Hunt couldn’t tell if the person was male or female. “That’s me,” she answered, gesturing to the plaque on her door. “What can I do for you?”

The person stepped up to the desk. “I’m hunting for a student and I wanted to know if I could leave a message for them with you. That is, if you don’t mind?” the person seemed to question. Hunt could tell, though, that the question was more of a formality but she didn’t mind.

“Of course. Who are you looking for?” she asked, starting to dig through the stack of papers on her desk. She couldn’t finish the sentence when a searing pain hit her chest. Hunt barely had time to scream before she was little more than a pile of ashes.

“I’m coming for you,” the figure whispered before sweeping out of the room.

As the first students were entering the building, a cardinal watched from a nearby tree.

* * *

 

“What do you think?” Sam asked. The brothers stood watching as the remains of Professor Helen Hunt’s body was removed from the building. A small crowd had gathered around. Several students were openly crying. Dean walked a few paces away and waited for Sam to join him.

Lowering his voice, he said, “I overheard the EMS. They’re going to loop around back to the back of the chemistry building and take the ashes to Lane. I think it’s time we check in with her.”

The EMS were dropping the ashes off with Lane when the brothers arrived. They hung back, not wanting to be asked questions they couldn’t answer.

Lane’s eyes were wide, her face ashen, as the medics handed her the box. She seemed shocked but nodded her thanks. One of the medics patted her shoulder before leaving. Lane looked down at the box, took a deep breath, and strengthened her resolve. She turned to go inside and caught sight of Sam and Dean.

“What can I do for you gentlemen?” she asked, composing her face and sauntering over.

“We wanted to ask how progress was going,” Sam explained.

Lane’s face fell again. “It’s not. I have no idea what I’m looking for. If I knew the type of compound, I could narrow it down but I don’t. I’m looking at millions of possibilities.”

“What about Ravi?” Dean asked.

She sighed. “Nothing from his end either. Troy died where he was found. There’s no sign of trauma. Nothing unusual on the skull. Look, I have to get started analyzing Professor Hunt’s remains. I’ll call if I find anything.”

Sam handed her a business card and she disappeared inside the building.

“What now?” Sam asked with a sigh.

“I’m not ready to throw out the ghost theory yet,” Dean said. “There might still be an object they’re tied to. They were football players. Maybe they have a game-winning ball or something.”

“Check their jerseys,” Sam suggested. “Maybe football was how they defined themselves.”

“Good thinking, Sammy,” Dean started to walk off and then stopped. “What are you gonna do?”

“See if there’s a connection between Troy Matthews and Dr. Helen Hunt.”

* * *

 

Lane sat upright in bed. “It can’t be as simple as that,” she whispered.

She quickly dressed and drove to the lab. Although it was past midnight, she was able to get in. When she’d started the investigation, she’d been given a key to the building. She was grateful for it now.

Although Lane was always the first student in the labs, the janitors were always there before her. They would make sure the lab was clean, flip on the lights, and leave before she even got there. Lane had never thought about it before but now she wondered.

She reached the lab and gasped. A soft yellow glow emanated from the beaker that held the remainder of Troy’s ashes. She glanced at Dr. Hunt’s ashes, still untouched. The glow was much fainter but still present. Lane walked down the hallway to chemical stockroom. She had work to do.

* * *

 

Sam awoke to his phone ringing. He was up with gun in his hand in less than a second. He glanced at Dean, also wide-awake. After realizing that it was just his phone, Sam leaned over the bed to check the time.

3:00 a.m.

Wondering who could possibly be calling at this hour, he finally picked up the phone. “Hello?” he asked.

“Agent Turner?” a breathless Lane Whittaker asked back.

“Lane? Are you okay?” Sam exchanged a worried look with Dean.

“What? Yeah, I’m fine,” Lane said impatiently. “Look, I’ve had a breakthrough. I need you down here now.” Without any further comments, Lane hung up.

Sam slowly put the phone down. “What’s up?” Dean asked.

“Lane thinks she’s found something.”

“And she couldn’t wait five hours?” Dean grumbled but he was already looking for his jacket.

Fifteen minutes later, the Impala roared into the parking lot behind the chemistry building. Lane was waiting for them. She looked scared almost and kept shifting from foot to foot. The expression seemed alien on her. As soon as Sam and Dean were out of the car, she grabbed their jackets and dragged them after her. The two were bemused but followed her patiently. Lane led them straight into the lab without bothering with the hazmat suits. Neither brother could see anything strange with the lab and said as much.

“I know, I get it,” Lane assured them. “Just watch. The lab looks normal right now but look.”

She flipped off the lights. Immediately, the same glow she’d seen hours earlier began to shine again. Both Sam and Dean took several steps back.

“It’s radioactive?” Dean asked.

Lane shook her head. “It’s bioluminescent. This is luciferin—the same stuff as fireflies.”

“What could cause that?” Sam asked. “It’s certainly not natural, is it?”

Lane shrugged. “I have no idea.” Something in her eyes flickered but—distracted by the glowing material—neither Sam nor Dean noticed.

“Thanks, Lane,” Sam said. “This is definitely important.”

Lane’s eyes followed the brothers as they left, the look of fear still lingering. As the door shut behind them, she glanced down at the two sets of ashes, one dissolved in a beaker and one still in its original box. Briefly, she closed her eyes, conflicted. When they opened, they were clear and free of fear.

“Damn,” she whispered.

“Well, it’s not a ghost,” Sam stated as they reached the car.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “Ghosts let out ectoplasm, not this bioluminescent crap.”

Sam was silent, thinking of the new development. There had to be a connection between the murders. He just wasn’t looking in the right place. Dean got in the car and motioned for Sam to join him but Sam shook his head. “I’m gonna go back to the Student Records Office. Maybe there’s something that I missed.”

“Great,” Dean said sarcastically. “That leaves me researching our mystery monster.” He shut the door and was preparing to drive off when a thought struck home. He rolled down the window. “Sammy!” Sam stopped and turned back. “Be careful, okay? We don’t know what we’re dealing with here. It could be something we’ve never seen before.”

Sam nodded. “You too, Dean.”

* * *

 

Nearly five hours later, Dean was going stir-crazy. He was finding nothing useful at all and the lack of information was ridiculous.

He picked up the phone and dialed Sam. “Sammy, I’ve got nothing. I tried monsters of South Texas and only got the damn chupacabra. So I tried bioluminescent incinerators and got zilch. How’s it going on your end?”

Sam’s voice sounded slightly muffled over the phone. “I think I’ve got the beginnings of something but nothing solid. I’m—hold on. I’ve got another call coming in.”

Dean waited patiently for Sam to call him back. He tried doing more research on the monster but still found nothing. As soon as Sam called, he practically dove for the phone.

“Lane called,” Sam said excitedly. “Ravi thinks he’s found something. She’s going to meet us at the lab.”

Dean reached the lab the same time Sam did. He got out of the car and glanced around. “Where’s Lane?” he asked.

Sam looked worried. “She said she was already here so she’d meet us outside.”

“You don’t think—”

The brothers sprinted for the building. Dean wrenched the door open and followed Sam inside. Now they were inside they could hear a sort of scream echo off the walls. They exchanged glances and ran faster.

Dean reached the lab first. He skidded to a halt and threw the door open so hard it ricocheted off the wall. “Lane!” he shouted.

Lane looked up from the floor, where she had collapsed next to a pile of ashes. She clutched a small, blackened skull.

“Ravi,” Sam breathed.

Dean bent down to touch the ashes. Lane watched him through her tears but made no move to stop him. He straightened back up.

“The ashes are still warm,” he murmured to Sam. “This just happened.” Sam nodded and left, hoping to catch the murderer. Dean knelt back down beside Lane. “I hate to ask but—”

Lane shook her head. “I didn’t see,” she whispered. “I was too late.” She broke into tears again but gathered herself enough to say, “I have to take him home.” Dean gave her a strange look. Lane sighed. “Ravi—Ravi was my brother,” Lane explained softly. “Adopted, of course. We both were.” She cradled the skull as though hoping it would magically bring Ravi back.

Sam returned. Dean and Lane both glanced up. Sam only shook his head. Missed the murderer again.

* * *

 

As the brothers left the building, Dean couldn’t help but think that they were missing something. There didn’t seem to be any connection between any of the deaths. They had no idea what was killing people. Other than the impossible bioluminescence, there were no more leads. Yet, Dean still had the feeling that he’d seen something like this before.

Sam was saying, “It doesn’t make any sense.” Dean shook himself out of his stupor. His brother glanced down to make sure Dean was paying attention. Dean motioned for him to continue.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Sam repeated. “How could she have not seen the murderer? For her to have heard Ravi scream, as she must have to return to the lab, then she must have been close by, which means the monster wouldn’t have had time to get away so she would have seen him.”

Dean was silent, mulling it over. Then, he said gruffly, “Unless she’s our monster. Ravi knew something. She couldn’t let him live.”

Sam looked slightly confused. “But why kill Matthews or Professor Hunt?”

Dean thought back to the conversation he’d had with Tory’s fiancée. “Lane and Matthews were fighting. If he did something bad enough to catch Lane’s attention…”

“And Professor Hunt?” Sam asked eagerly. Before Dean could say anything, he answered his own question. “Professor Hunt was an organic chemistry professor. Matthews never took her course. But you know who did?”

“Lane Whittaker,” both boys said together.

“And Hunt was her thesis advisor,” Sam continued. “Lane’s thesis was on alchemy. Not exactly a science. What if Hunt refused to sign off on it?” He paused, all of it coming together in his mind. Well, almost all of it. “But we still don’t know what we’re up against.”

“Yes we do.”

Sam looked askew at Dean but Dean looked convinced. He had been thinking about it and he’d finally remembered where he’d seen those ashes and skulls before. Or, rather, when he’d seen those ashes before.

Dean started walking back to the car, “Come on, Sammy,” he called. “We’re gonna need those iron handcuffs if we’re gonna take down a phoenix.”

* * *

 

Lane looked up from the last of her packing. She could hear the two men stop in the doorway. She sighed, having hoped that she could have left before they had realized all of the signs pointed to her. As if she could be so lucky.

“Hoping to run, were you? We know what you are,” the taller one said. “Phoenix.”

“And I know what you are,” Lane replied quietly, still putting chemicals away. “Hunters.” She refused to turn to them, to let them see the small amount of fear in her eyes. “I didn’t kill those people.”

One of them sneered. “Of course you didn’t. You don’t deny that you’re a monster and we know your trademarks. We’ve hunted one of your kind before.”

Lane looked up from her work. Her hands clutched the table in front of her. “That’s not possible,” she said softly. “The last of my brothers was killed two hundred years ago. I am the last.” Her heart ached at the thought of her dead siblings.

“Did we stutter?” the shorter one stated.

Lane could hear one of them creeping up behind her, presumably to attack her. She spun around and caught sight of the iron shackles. Her eyes flashed golden. The handcuffs glowed white-hot and then disintegrated.

“I didn’t kill them,” Lane hissed. “And I can prove it.”

Neither man looked convinced. She motioned to Ravi’s ashes on the floor. “Ravi’s ashes glow, right?” Dean flicked off the light to show that yes, Ravi glowed. “But look at what I just incinerated.” The once-handcuffs looked like just a normal pile of ash.

Dean flipped the lights back on. “You could have added the luciferin,” he countered.

Lane sighed in frustration. “I wouldn’t have had time! Besides, we don’t keep luciferin. It’s not a common chemical.” She paused and eyed the two suspiciously. “You said you’ve hunted my people before, right?” Both boys nodded. “And you saw him incinerate something?” Again, they nodded. “And did it glow?”

“No,” Dean admitted. “But we didn’t see him ash anything from five feet away either.”

Lane snapped, “Just because you didn’t see it, doesn’t mean it can’t happen.” Sam lifted an eyebrow, obviously referring to the glowing ashes. Lane sighed again. “Fine. I’ll prove it chemically.”

She slid on a pair of gloves, scooped up some of the handcuff ash, placed it in a beaker, and labeled it “handcuff.” She did the same thing to Ravi but handed that beaker to Dean. “So you can make sure I don’t cheat,” she muttered.

As she started adding chemicals to the handcuff beaker, Lane explained, “I recently discovered an element in my body, one that I think gives me my abilities. Like I said, it’s undiscovered, so I just call it alchemica. It shows up in everything I ash, which means that it will show up in this ash but not in Ravi’s. Got it?”

The boys nodded. Sam stepped back to join Dean. Both thought that if Lane could prove the existence of this element, then it seemed unlikely that she was their monster. Even so…

“Do you have the extra shackles?” Sam whispered. Dean nodded and absently patted his jacket, eyes focused on Lane to make sure nothing funny happened. At first, Lane worked in silence. She quickly decided that the silence combined with the watchfulness of the boys was too unnerving.

“So what can I call you two?” she asked.

Sam glanced at Dean, who shrugged. It didn’t really matter if Lane knew their names. “Sam Winchester. This is my brother, Dean.”

Lane stopped what she was doing and turned to study the two. Finally, she said, “I guess I can see the resemblance,” and turned back to the beaker. Dean and Sam exchanged looks. They would have expected that she would recognize the Winchester name. Most monsters seemed to.

“What about you?” Dean replied, cautiously turning back to her. “Your name isn’t actually Lane, is it?”

Lane shrugged. She searched for a hot plate and, upon finding none, headed for the cupboard. “Well it is, sort of. My original name was Illane. Hebrew, you know. When I left the area, I left the name as well but kept the root ‘lane.’ It’s only been in the last few years that I chose just ‘Lane’ as my name.” She tested the hot plate for warmth, then turned the heat up.

“We all had a root name,” she continued. “So we could find each other later. One of my brothers chose the name ‘Eli.’” She smiled at old memories. “When he passed, I think he was going by Elias.”

Sam and Dean started. They knew that name. To distract Lane, Sam asked, “How many of you were there?”

Lane looked sad. “Eve created ten of us. We were her first creations. Then, she realized what she’d done and tried to hunt us down. She killed two of my brothers before we cast her into Purgatory. The rest of us went into hiding.” She suddenly appeared impossibly old. “I haven’t seen any of my siblings since then.”

She fell silent again, lost in her memories. Dean felt a twinge of pity for her but quickly squashed it. For all he knew, she could be playing them.

Another hour passed in silence. Both Sam and Dean had tried to find chairs but there were none in the lab. Lane seemed to be ignoring them. From what they could tell, she was using a variety of methods to extract solids from the ash solution. She discarded all of these solids until, finally, she turned to the brothers.

“This,” Lane announced, “is alchemica.” She dumped a handful of something into Sam’s hand. Then, she grabbed the beaker of Ravi’s ashes and marched back to her workstation.

The brothers studied the alchemica. At first, the element looked like a handful of tiny rubies. Then, as Sam and Dean watched, the crystals changed from a dark red to a pale orange to a golden yellow to a white-blue to an ash gray before reversing the process. Dean peered closely into one only to observe what looked like a tiny flame dancing within the crystal.

It wasn’t long before Lane was turning back to them with a small beaker of a faintly glowing liquid. “This is luciferin.” She held up the original beaker, now full of a clear liquid. “And this is water.” Her eyes met Dean’s eyes steadily. “Now, do you believe me?”

Dean took another look at the alchemica. “Yes,” he said. Lane knew that it was as much of an apology as she was going to get.

“If it’s not you and it’s not a ghost, then who is it?” Sam mused.

Lane had already figured that out. “A doppelganger.” Sam and Dean turned to stare at her. “You do know what a doppelganger is, right?”

“They’re shapeshifters,” Dean said, shrugging.

Lane grimaced. “Sort of. Doppelgangers can shift into ‘monsters’ as you would call them. But there’s a catch. When they shift, they get everything. A vampire’s hunger, a dragon’s preference for virgins, a phoenix’s immunity, but only what they know about. So, if a doppelganger doesn’t know about a ghost’s susceptibility to salt, then salt won’t work on. This doppelganger doesn’t know about the alchemica so it tries to make up for it subconsciously with the luciferin.”

“But why is it attacking people close to you?” Dean challenged.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Lane looked from one confused brother to the other. She sighed heavily. “It’s trying to draw me out.” Neither brother seemed to understand. “I’m not toxic just to Eve. I’m toxic to all monsters,” she explained slowly. “Can you imagine what a nest, or a species, could do with that sort of power?”

Finally, Sam and Dean showed a glimmer of understanding. Lane smiled grimly. “It was hoping to goad me into a battle by killing people I cared about, starting with Troy, not realizing that Troy and I were no longer speaking. So, it tried Dr. Hunt. I knew then that I was being hunted but my thoughts were of running, not fighting. So it killed Ravi, knowing how much he meant to me.”

A thought occurred to Sam. “How did it get away then?”

“The window was open,” Lane realized. “There was a flash of red when I ran in. We phoenixes are shapeshifters as well, into birds. It must have tried to compensate for that.”

Lane’s anger grew as she just realized just how carefully this had been planned. Some shifter had been watching her for months to figure out who she was close to. It had murdered the people she cared about in cold blood—it had murdered Ravi, an innocent boy, so that it could use her for its own purpose.

She arched toward the door, her fury enough that small flames danced in her clenched fists. “What are you gonna do?” Dean asked, slightly concerned.

“I’m tired of running,” she hissed. “I’m going to fight.” She turned to face the brothers, her hands unclenching. “Some help would be appreciated.”

* * *

 

The next morning, the local newspapers all told the headline story of how someone had set fire to the Texas State football field. Mysteriously, the arsonist had left a message. The only grass left spelled out the word “okay,” ten yards tall.

The doppelganger smiled to itself. It picked up a nearby phone, punched a few numbers in, and waited. The moment the other line picked up, it said coldly, “We’ve got her. I’ll collect her tonight.”

* * *

 Lane stood alone in the empty football field at midnight. She didn’t know where Sam and Dean were but she knew they were waiting somewhere in the stadium.

She heard quiet steps behind her and turned to face her adversary. It wasn’t at all who she had expected, but she hid her surprise.

“Hello, Lilly,” she said coolly.

Lilly Horner sneered. “No need for formalities, phoenix.”

“You know,” Lane said conversationally. “I never did like you. I just thought it was because you were a bitch, not a raving lunatic.”

Lilly snarled and reached for the chains in her back pocket. Lane was faster. She brought a handful of iridium dust up and blew it in the doppelganger’s face. Lilly screamed and clawed at her eyes.

Lane slashed at the shifter with a knife. Somehow, Lilly anticipated it and dodged. Lane managed a shallow cut on Lilly’s upper arm.

Lilly ignored the pain shooting through her arm and lunged for the phoenix. The ground beneath her feet erupted into flame. Lilly howled and stumbled back.

The phoenix pressed the attack. She pressed the doppelganger back toward the stands, a silver knife in one hand, iridium dust in the other, and the ground catching fire wherever Lilly stepped.

Lilly felt cold steel at her back. She glanced behind her to see that she was pressed up against the stands. She turned back to see Lane holding the silver knife to her throat. Lilly gulped only to feel the knife burn into her.

A feral smile graced Lane’s lips, a reminder that, as human as she looked, she wasn’t. Lilly shivered.

“It’s over,” Lane hissed.

Lilly’s hand scrabbled behind her, searching for some defense. Her hand clutched something draped over the railing. Lilly smiled coldly.

“Is it though?” she countered.

She grabbed the iron net, whipped it over her head and flung it at Lane. Weighed down by the heavy net, Lane collapsed to the ground. She shrieked as the iron bit into her. Her hand reached for the knife, only inches away, but Lilly kicked it away.

“Ingenious, isn’t it?” Lilly chuckled. “I placed it there when you issued your challenge. And to think that, out of all the places you could have back me against, you chose that spot.”

Lane’s eyes focused on something behind her. Lilly’s brow furrowed. She started to turn but screamed as the tip of a silver knife burst through her chest. Sam sprinted to Lane, leaving Dean to deal with the shifter. He pulled the net away. Lane slumped against him.

“Wondered when you’d show up,” Lane chided, her eyes falling shut.

* * *

 

“So what are your plans?” Dean asked. He leaned up against the side of the Impala.

Lane looked resigned. “I got my thesis presentation moved to tomorrow in light of the ‘recent tragedy.’ Then, I guess I’ll try to find someplace new to hide. I hear the Amazon’s lovely this time of year.” She scowled.

Sam glanced at Dean. Dean nodded. Sam pulled a business card out of his pocket. He held it out to Lane. “If you need somewhere to go, give us a call. We could use your knowledge.”

Lane slowly took the card, looking surprised. “You’re serious?” The brothers nodded. “I will keep that in mind.” She stuck the card into her jacket.

She started to walk away, then turned back. “You do just want my expertise, right?” she asked suspiciously. “Not my blood or ashes or anything?”

Dean acted offended. “We can kill our own monsters, thank you.”

Lane grinned and left.

“Think she’ll call?” Sam asked as the two got in the car. Dean nodded. Sam smiled slightly. “Life will definitely be different with her around.”

Again, Dean nodded. He reached over and turned the radio up. As the first storm clouds rolled in over Texas State University, the vintage Chevrolet Impala drove off.


End file.
